Amongst the Books
by The Auburn Girl
Summary: When his memories are returned, all Mr. Gold can think about is the town's blue-eyed librarian. Season 1, Storybrooke Rumbelle AU. RSS fic.


**_A/N:_ **_This is my Rumbelle Secret Santa fic for 'allie-taylor' on Tumblr. Her prompt was "Rumbelle romance in library". Enjoy! _

* * *

Robert Gold moved swiftly through the streets of Storybrooke, oblivious to the pain in his ankle. His breaths came in short pants, his hair was askew, and he was sure that if someone spied him now, they would think him mad. Not five minutes ago, he would have cared if they saw him in such a state, but in this moment, nothing else mattered. Startlingly clear images of the past—of the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke—flashed through his mind and there, among them, was a petite librarian with bright blue eyes and long, dark hair. He had to see her for himself, had to lay eyes on her to believe what his memories and thoughts told him was true. She was _alive_. _Belle was alive_.

He rushed past his shop and crossed the street, blind to everything except the public library where he knew she worked. It was late and the library was a few minutes past closing time, but he could see a silhouette moving through the windows as he approached the front doors.

Without thinking, he tried the handle of one of them and pushed it wide with more force than was necessary; the result was a loud bang that echoed in the silence of the library.

His sudden entry caused the woman moving behind the front desk to freeze. She was half-way in the process of putting on her coat. "M—Mr. Gold," she said, alarmed, "I—Is there something I can do for you?"

Gold stared at her in awe. His bottom lip trembled and he bit down on it to quell his rising tears. _She was alive_. "Belle," he whispered brokenly, reaching out to her with a shaking hand. The one that held his cane was trembling as well.

"Mr. Gold, are you okay?" the woman asked in rising panic.

The question brought him back to his senses. He swallowed hard and dropped his hand. Of course... She would not remember him, and for a moment, he was both grateful and devastated by the fact. Grateful because he knew that if she had her memories, she would be screaming at him right now; devastated because she was not the Belle he remembered.

She was different. Where Belle was unafraid to maintain eye contact, this Belle was skittish. There were dark shadows in her eyes, and with a breaking heart, Gold realized they were the result of prolonged torture. It was written in her body language as well. She was terrified of him. He was certain of it. And all of his prior memories of her showed her to be fearful of everything but books and children...

"Mr. Gold? D—did my father not pay the rent?"

Gold took a step back. Belle—no, _Annabelle_—was looking at him with an uncomfortable expression on her face. He startled, and imagined how frightening he must appear to her. "Miss French..." he said quietly, "I'm not here about the rent. I...I'm here for a book. Do you, by chance, have Huxley's _Brave New World_?"

Annabelle nodded. She did not look at him as she moved around the front desk. She disappeared into the depths of library, passing by rows of stacked shelves, and he stood there simmering, suddenly enraged. He was angry that Regina had had the audacity to lie to him and torture his True Love, because he was sure of it now. What horrors had she inflicted on Belle? What had _she done? _Oh _gods... _he was going to make Regina _suffer _for this.

Annabelle returned seconds later with the book and scanned it. She would not meet his gaze, and when she reached out to hand it over to him, she flinched when their fingers accidentally brushed.

After thanking her softly, he scanned her from head to toe before leaving the library slower than he'd entered it. He did not want to leave her but he had to. She only knew him as the town's most hated person... He would have to approach this more carefully. Regina didn't know about his regained memories and he wanted to keep it that way. He'd have to keep a close eye on the mayor and her schemes as well as the savior. _Emma_, he thought. She was important and she'd need an ally against the Queen if she was to remain in Storybrooke. But nothing was more important than protecting Annabelle. He'd make it up to Belle; he'd keep her safe until the Curse was broken. He'd protect her like he should have in the Enchanted Forest. No matter what.

* * *

He was careful not to reveal himself to Regina when he confronted her. He wanted to throttle her and wring her by the neck, but he restrained himself. All the cards were in his hand but he didn't want to play them too soon. So he put one foot in front of the other, threw one of Regina's apples over his shoulder, and left.

After, the walk back to his home was short. When he unlocked the door, he went straight upstairs and into his bedroom. Carefully, he opened his bedside drawer. A small, chipped teacup was inside, and he held it to his chest, thinking about the librarian across town.

* * *

When he came to the library two days later to return the book, Annabelle was even more unnerved than before. The awkwardness of his previous visit had affected her and she was now on guard. She quickly took the book from him and scanned it once more. Then, she murmured a stilted, "I—is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Gold?"

He asked for another book. She retrieved it for him, checked it out under his name, and told him the date it had to be returned by. Afterwards, he left, and the process was repeated when he walked into the library three days later asking for another book.

Everything was so painful and strange—almost to the point of becoming agonizing. There Belle sat alive and well, and he could do nothing to immediately breach the distance between them. It would have to be slow. He had to be subtle. And what he wanted was not going to be easy to attain. Regina was always watching. Yet he was afforded some luck because her current attention was on Miss Swan. It was amusing, really. Gold had to admire her tenacity and her stupidity... While she was focused on Miss Swan, she should have been paying closer attention to _him_.

* * *

He made it a habit of visiting the library three times a week. Each time, he gently asked for a specific book, and she pulled it from one of the shelves. He could have looked for the book himself but he wanted to watch her. There was a confident quality in her step when she moved down an aisle to grab a book for him. It reminded him of Belle and the times she spent reading in the library he gave her. It also gave him hope. Belle was still in there, despite the Curse and all that had happened.

He was sure of it.

* * *

He visited Annabelle on what he learned was her slower days, when he was certain few people were in the library.

Annabelle would be in her chair behind the front desk. When he entered, she would look up from the story she was reading. Her eyes would betray her nervousness but she'd master herself and ask him what he was looking for that day.

It was times like those when Gold was proud of her. She was so brave—both in the Enchanted Forest and here, and that warmed his heart even if they didn't speak beyond mere courtesies.

* * *

Gold would always remember November 14th as the turning point.

At midday, he limped through the library's doors to find a muscular man leaning over the front desk and invading Annabelle's personal space. The man had his hands planted on the desktop and appeared relaxed, but across from him, Annabelle was biting her lip in frustration.

"George, I really appreciate it. I do...but I don't want to go on a date. I've told you before," she said quietly. "And I'm working... You shouldn't be here unless you're here for a book."

George—the man Gold recognized as Gaston from the Enchanted Forest—reached up to pet Belle's hair. "Aw come on, Annie. It'll be fun. I'll make sure you have a good time," he answered, oblivious to Annabelle's discomfort.

A spark of annoyance lit her eyes. "I said 'no', George. What part of 'no' don't you understand?"

The atmosphere in the room became tense all of a sudden. George paused, freezing like Gold had frozen when he walked through the doorway. "Now, Annie," George said, growing impatient and towering over her. "I—"

But Gold had seen enough. White-hot anger licked at his insides and he thought he saw red. "Dearie, I'd listen to her if were you," he growled, announcing his presence to them.

George whirled around and Annabelle peaked over his shoulder so she could see who had come to her rescue. Her blue eyes grew wide when she realized it was Gold who'd intervened. "Mr. Gold, how can I help you?" she asked quickly, and for once, there was no panic in her tone. She was clearly relieved he'd chosen that moment to stop by. Her eyes flicked to the man in front of her. "George, I trust you can see yourself out," she said, voice low.

George looked balefully at Gold, but knew better than to argue or say something he'd regret. No one crossed Gold, not even the mayor. He glanced at Annabelle one last time, anger clear in his eyes, and then left the library in a rush.

Gold eyed the librarian, who watched George leave with apprehension. She bit her lip in puzzlement, apparently trying to figure out the man's problem, and then seemed to remember Gold was there. Her eyes met his and he saw gratitude in them. "Thank you for that," she said, nodding her head in the direction George had left.

"You are very welcome, Miss French," Gold answered, smiling slightly. "Though, I think you had it under control."

At his words, Annabelle studied him closely. It looked like she was trying to decide if he was mocking her or was sincere. When she decided, her lips curled upward into a tiny smile at the compliment. It was the first sign of genuine happiness he'd seen on her lips, and Gold's heart thudded in his chest at the sight. She was _so beautiful_.

"Did...did you enjoy _The Three Musketeers_?" she wondered, gesturing to the book in his free hand.

He handed it to her. "I did."

"Would you like another?"

Smiling, he told her he would, and she left the front desk and walked down an aisle labeled 'Fiction'. There was a subsection of 'Adventure' and she skimmed the books. "What book were you looking for, Mr. Gold?" she called. She leaned back in the aisle so she could see him.

"I'm feeling a little brave today, Miss French. Is there anything you would recommend?"

Annabelle paused, letting his words sink in. For a moment, she appeared taken aback, but then she mastered herself and said, "I—I would recommend other works by Dumas. Have you read his _The Count of Monte Cristo_?"

"I've heard of it. Let's see what I think, hmm?"

She plucked the tale from its shelf and walked back to the front desk. As she scanned it, she glanced at him carefully. "Enjoy," she told him, handing the book into his waiting hand.

He nodded at her. "Good day, Miss French."

* * *

After that, they spoke much more often. The ice had thawed between them, especially after the way he handled George.

Gold would stop by, sometimes to return a book, other times to discuss what he'd read so far. He eased them into conversation, often against her wishes, and slowly but surely, she began to open up. They spoke of the books they'd read, the ones they found interesting and the ones they found lacking. They spoke of the library, of her reason for working there, of the mayor's plan to shut it down, while he silently promised he would not let that happen.

She asked about him.

"Where are you from?"

"What made you want to start a pawn shop?"

"Where have you traveled?"

She wanted to know everything and he was happy to tell her all about the false life Regina had made for him. He sought answers from her, too. He wanted to know if she remembered anything...why fear lit her eyes sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking. What did Annabelle think happened to her in this world? He wanted to know it—put didn't push. Soon, all of his plans would fall into place.

* * *

Things were getting rough for the mayor and he could use that to his advantage. Her son—Henry—was growing more attached to Emma, and Emma was more committed to the town than before because she was the town's new sheriff. Poor Graham had 'died of a heart attack'. Gold still didn't believe it; he was sure Regina had crushed the man's heart somewhere.

And with everything happening, it was only a matter of time before things fell apart for her, and _oh_...he was looking forward to it.

* * *

He learned of Annabelle's obsession with iced tea and her like of hamburgers. She told him reluctantly, and with a hint of chagrin, that she couldn't afford either often because her paycheck helped cover her father's rent at "Game of Thorns". It angered Gold that Annabelle would have to pay for her father's debts. She worked hard enough as it was and did not need the extra load.

She said she wanted to travel the world, to see places and have adventures of her own. Her words were so like the ones she spoke in the Enchanted Forest and they struck him hard like a physical blow. _I could have given you those adventures. You could have had them..._ he thought sadly, and he felt worse knowing she could not leave the town until Emma saved them from Regina's Curse. She was trapped here, just like all of them.

* * *

"Why do you act the way you do?" she asked on a day early in December.

The month brought with it snow and cold winds, and he had escaped the freezing temperatures by taking refuge in the library instead of his shop.

"I'm sorry?" Gold wondered, raising an eyebrow. He was watching her scan a bookshelf, looking for the story he desired. He stood a few feet away, leaning against a chair.

Annabelle looked embarrassed. "I mean...you are not well-liked in town and you treat people...differently," she said carefully and then blushed. "And yet you're here with me...and you're really nice. I don't understand. You never came by the library up until a little while ago... You're kind and nothing like my father says."

Gold repressed a cringe. He treated Annabelle well—yes—but her father was another story. That man had accumulated massive debt over the years and it was his own fault; that he'd put that burden partially on Annabelle was one of the reasons he despised Moe French.

At his silence, Annabelle panicked. "I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. What I asked was too personal."

Gold smiled. "No it's quite all right, Miss French. I suppose I'm just a cranky, old man. Almost like the Grinch," he said, eyes sparkling in sudden playfulness.

"You're _not_ _old_," Annabelle replied, rolling her eyes, but she smiled anyway. His heart was fit to burst because he knew he put it there. "And you're not mean to _me_."

He only gave her a soft smile, because nothing he could have said would have convinced her otherwise. And she was right.

* * *

It started off slow.

As Christmas drew near, Gold began to stop by more often. He made excuses and lingered longer than usual to speak with her. Every time he walked into the library, her eyes sparkled and she began to smile. It was as if she looked forward to his visits—liked she cared about him and craved his company.

There were times when he caught her observing him, as if she was trying to figure him out. He could often feel her eyes trailing after his movements, and sometimes, when he walked by the library, he caught her staring. It reminded him of the times she watched him in the Dark Castle when she thought he wasn't looking. But he had then and he was now.

It was the small things. The way she watched him with a gentle expression on her face, the way she asked him questions only the true Belle would think to ask, the way she carried herself around him... He noticed it all.

"Will you help me decorate the library?" she asked him.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said, indicating his ankle.

She grinned, and the expression made his knees go weak. She was _so beautiful_... "I promise I won't make you go up any ladders. Please?"

When she looked at him like that and asked nicely, he couldn't say 'no'. But he didn't want her to know that, so he grumbled under his breath—muttering about how the 'little librarian' took advantage of the 'old man with the cane', and she covered her mouth with her hand to try to hide her laughter.

They decorated the front desk, placing fake Christmas presents on the desktop and putting a Christmas wreath below, centered on the flat surface. They hung Christmas streamers across the ceiling, careful not to ruin them. They connected strings of lights so that the entire library lit up a soft, yellow light.

When they were done, she turned in a slow circle to soak it all in.

It was beautiful.

And so was she.

* * *

Before either of them knew it, it was Christmas Eve. The town had descended into full Christmas cheer. Lights lined every establishment, holly hung above lampposts and doors, and snow blanketed the ground.

Gold had promised to stop by the library before it closed. Annabelle had few friends in town and he had no friends, so they would spend an hour to themselves. They'd planned an exchange of gifts and she was bringing cookies.

When the town's clock struck 8:00 in the evening, he carefully made his way across the street and towards the library. The ground and streets were covered in snow and the wind whipped at his face. He should have been cold, but the fire and excitement in the pit of his stomach made him feel warm. Tonight it was all about Annabelle and making her smile. His heart beat warmly, lovingly when he thought of her sparkling blue eyes and her bright laughter.

Smiling to himself, he pushed open one of the library's doors. Annabelle sat behind the front desk in her usual place and she looked up when he entered. She beamed and stood. A Santa hat sat on the top of her head and its white, puffy end dangled beside her cheek. He wanted to laugh at how adorable she looked. But he didn't. Instead, he chuckled softly.

"Hello, Miss French."

"Merry Christmas," she answered, somewhat shyly.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "A day early," he teased, and he stepped forward as she moved around the desk.

She rolled her eyes. "Christmas Eve, then."

They settled into two chairs. Annabelle unwrapped her cookies, and they ate them while they spoke of the latest books they were reading, their plans for New Year's, and their New Year's Resolutions... There was a happy glow to her cheeks and Gold found himself entranced by her—by this wonderful, beautiful person. It was astonishing, when he thought about how much she'd opened up in the last two months. She'd blossomed before his very eyes.

"Will you read a Christmas story for us before we exchange presents?" he asked when they'd eaten their way through a majority of the cookies and spoken for almost an hour. He wanted to hear her voice, to listen to it as it brought to life the words on a page.

Annabelle rose from her seat. She looked like an angel, there amongst the soft Christmas lights of the library. "Help me pick one out?" she asked, smiling. She held out her hand and he took it without hesitation. It was the first time they touched each other and a tingle shot up his arm at the contact.

She led them to the Christmas/Holidays section, all the while glancing over her shoulder at him. "What story would you like for me to read?"

They were in a little nook. He leaned against a bookshelf while she ran her fingers along the spines of books, searching for one. "Your favorite," he murmured.

"_The Legend of the Candy Cane_," she whispered, catching his eye and lowering her voice when she saw the expression on his face. There was a soft smile on his lips and his dark eyes glittered in the lights. He couldn't stop himself... He raised his hand so that his fingers caressed her cheek and she let out a quiet gasp.

"You are so beautiful, Belle," he said, voice gentle. His heart pounded in his chest, and in a moment of rare courage, he stepped forward. She looked up at him in shock, but didn't say anything when he slowly crowded her against the bookshelf and cupped her cheek. "So beautiful..."

When he leaned forward to kiss her, she had the chance to pull away. She had the chance to end anything between them before it started. But she didn't.

No. She gently pulled him closer and her blue eyes filled with understanding, _love_. She met his lips half-way, let her eyes slip closed. He was warm, his lips were soft, and his hand on her cheek was gentle. The library was silent. All that remained was the furious beating of her heart.

And then disconnected images flooded into her mind, and she let out a startled gasp, stumbling out of his grip. She clutched her head and felt the Santa hat fall back. "Belle?" Gold asked, catching her elbows to steady her. "What's wrong?"

"Pictures—like memories in my head—" she gasped, unable to speak for a moment.

His grip on her arms tightened and he stared at her in wide-eyed shock. "I—it's working," he whispered, touching her face. Never had he imagined this would work... He pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers in a frantic kiss. She pushed against him, very confused, and then made a little whimper as her memories slammed into her mind.

Gasping, she clung to him, suddenly going limp in his arms. Their breaths were loud in the quiet of the library, and when she pulled back enough to whisper "Rumplestiltskin", the word was startlingly loud. Tears were in her eyes and a sob escaped her lips. "I remember. I remember!"

He gazed down at her in awe and adoration. His hands grasped her shoulders and slid down to wrap around her waist. "Oh, _Belle_, I'm _so sorry_. Please...forgive me," he whispered brokenly. "_So sorry..._"

Through her tears, she smiled. Her hand lifted to stroke his hair. "I forgive you, Rumple. I forgive you."

They were the words he'd waited two months to hear and, unable to speak, he pulled Belle to him in a tight hug that left them both breathless. "I love you," he said, voice breaking once more in emotion. "I should have said it before. ...I love you, Belle."

"I love _you_," she cried into the crook of his neck.

"I'll never let you go again. _Never_."

And he wouldn't. He would never make that mistake again. It was a promise to himself he intended to keep. No matter what. Because, in this moment, nothing else mattered but Belle. She was here, she was alive, and she was _his_.


End file.
